


Lovestoned (And I Think He Doesn't Know)

by TheAnderfelsOne



Series: Summer vacation [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Rating will change, Smoking, pining Carver
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:47:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAnderfelsOne/pseuds/TheAnderfelsOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrett, Anders, Carver and the rest hit a bonfire party. good things happen among bad things...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovestoned (And I Think He Doesn't Know)

**Author's Note:**

> As I'm myself by the beach, these installements are fun to write when I have a moment ^^  
> I think the song that had put me in the mood is clear. Although I'm more into the interlude by the end of the song for this part.

A blue sky streaked with flushing red and pink and a finger of yellow. That’s how the evening Amaranthine sky looks like by the beach. Carver thinks of paintings he never understood at the museum in a time where his school made of point of taking them there, as if they knew they’ll all grow into sullen and sulking human beings and they deemed it the only chance they've got at educating them in fine arts.

Carver is sitting on the powdery golden sand, trying to remember what’s that shade of color he sees between the pink, the yellow and the orange. The beach has started to depopulate by sundown. But the night isn’t over yet, he knows it. Some friends have invited them to have a little bonfire party here at the beach. It’s a matter of a few hours for it to start, probably exactly where he’s sitting. Just waiting for the stars to come out. Like seafarers waiting to be guided by a particular constellation.

He thinks he got another shade darker. He knows Bethany will be pissed if she did and think Garrett don’t give a shit. However Anders…

***

They’re sitting in a messy rowdy circle around a bonfire crackling fire sparks which is the centre of the party. Music is already blasting from a set of hi-fi speakers that someone Carver doesn’t particularly know brought with him. In fact Carver doesn’t know half of them. He bumped fists with them, and exchanged grinning greetings and slangs because that’s only polite when they’re bringing all the liquor, right? It’s pounding a sexy enthusiastic pop song, sung by a male voice with low beats and thuds and that’s when Anders makes his entrance.

Carver is laughing at something a girl – of which he only knows the name and the fact that she decided to stay in her bikinis – tells him when he spots him mid laughter.

A mop of curly hair that has just dried, yellow with all the sunlight it has sucked up throughout the day comes into view like a freaking beacon light in the blackness of the night sky.

He’s wearing casual grey cotton shorts that hide half his thighs and a sleeveless shirt with oversized arm holes that goes all the way down his hips.

Because he got sunburned.

Garrett is behind him with his own plastic bag of beers wearing a white tank shirt under a black zip up sweatshirt, sunglasses on his head combing his fringe backwards, black shorts and a grin.

“Hey dude!” one of the cinnamon tanned guys with a foreign accent shouts and crosses the circle to greet Garrett, “Where have ya been!”

“You know what they say, _en retard comme les stars_ ,” Garrett shoots back because there are a couple of orlesian natives with them. “Don’t hate on me I come baring beers.” He says throwing the plastic bag fist in the air like a prize.

“Apology accepted,” one of them sitting cross-legged near Garrett and Anders laughs.

Carvers watches how Anders is silent and smiling whenever someone talks to Garrett. His cheeks and nose are still red flushed by the leftover of the sun and Carver won't be able to know anymore if Anders is blushing or not. That’s when Anders’ eyes find his and the smile turns more friendly and more I-finally-see-someone-I-know. He waves like Carver and Anders are best friends and Garrett spots him too and tosses him a ‘hey, wattsup’ kinda smile.

The party can finally start, Carver thinks begrudgingly. The girl who’s been talking to him him doesn’t understand why the boy beside her has suddenly disconnected.

***

Carver knocks back a can of beer. He doesn’t fucking get how he ended up sitting against a palm tree beside Anders. People around them are guffawing and dancing, some are smoking illicit cigarettes rolled by whom Carver guesses is the pothead of the group.

Across from them, Garrett and Daylen and a bunch of tanned dudes are playing a beer game and laughing their asses off about it.

“How’s your back.”

Anders turns to him and smiles in mock-annoyance, “Burnt?”

“Despite all the sunscreen I smeared on you?”

“Don’t take it personally, my skin have always been the sun’s sworn enemy,” Anders laughs. He gets passed a lightened joint from his right and graciously accepts it with thanks.

“You are such a stoner,” Carver says evenly. He knows Anders smokes weed among other things that sometimes don’t involve ‘smoking’, as Carver discovered one day while he was searching for his earphones in Garrett’s bedroom.

What he doesn’t know is if the blond man has always been like that or it is Garrett’s influence that made him turn to weed and pot and drugs…

“A musician remember?” is the blond’s obvious answer as he arches a fair eyebrow and put his drink between his legs to take a drag.

“Riight.” Carver humors him and watches. He has never gotten so close to the blond as he smoked. But now, he can perfectly see how the flushed cheeks hollows around the suction, how those lush lips mould around the shape of the spliff, how Anders’ expression turn to something utterly liberating and ravishingly debauched when he close his eyes.

He also get to watch up close as Anders’ lips pucker and blows circular shapes into the air before them.

“Fuck, you know how to do that?”

“Yeah,” Anders says, smiling languorously.

Carver watches Anders’ circles gravitate in front of them until someone drops a hand on Anders’ hair and ruffles it.

“Hey you!” Sebastian Vael's slick tone greets.

Anders bats his hand away, “ _Hey_ ,” he says more offensively, though with no heat behind it.

“Garrett told me you’re sunburned so I didn’t want to clap your shoulder instead,” the Starkhaven man says flashing a white toothed grin.

“Thanks I guess,”

“So what, you’re kind of all _sensitive_ now?” Sebastian snarks looking at Carver on the side with something wicked in his eye.

What the fuck?

Anders just snort-smiles and does a little pouty face that just begs to be crooned at. He gets his revenge by blowing thick smoke at Sebastian’s face; which isn’t exactly revenge if the other part gladly sucks it up.

“What’s you’re up to? Garrett has already started drinking everyone under the table,” he says pointing with his thumb behind him where Garrett is currently locked in a headlock by someone equally muscled and with an exotic name.

“Nothing, just chilling out,” Anders says, taking another drag.

“You know I’m glad you joined us for the summer this year, Anders.” He confesses with a sly wink.

“So heartfelt of you Sebastian, are you drunk?” grins Anders.

“Toked up a same like blunt. Beware, you’re going to be all chummy soon too, that guy rolling them’s good at his job,” Sebastian replies. “Want to dance?”

It takes both Anders and Carver by surprise but Anders recovers first. “I want to finish this first, if you don’t mind.”

Sebastian hums and twirls a blond lock around his index, “Nice,” he says to the curly lock.

Carver doesn’t know if he should feel embarrassed or appalled by the effortless flirting tone and gesture.   

“All right,” he says at length and begin to retreat, “We should hang out more, but you owe me a dance later!” he ends up half saying and half calling with a pointed index towards Anders as some chick claims his arm, dragging him away.

Anders smiles and shakes his head at the Starkhaven heir already hands deep in a girl’s skirt.

“Man, I wanna have a smoke.”

“You want some?”

“I was thinking about a normal cigarette but…” Carver ponders the proposition for five seconds and a half. He doesn’t want to sound like a perverted dude because he thinks about tasting implicitly Anders’ mouth on the spliff. Not even to his own head. He just won’t think about it.

“Okay.”

Anders passes the spliff to Carver, and Carver watches their fingers brush slightly. The joint is no longer long since Anders has already smoked half of it.

He takes a breath and takes a drag. Catch it in his lungs and expels and fuck, that shit is actually good. He takes a longer hit right after and Anders chuckles and no - actually giggles and let his head fucking droops on Carver’s bared shoulder.

Blond curls come tingling his neck and jawline making Carver feel higher than what the good spliff has managed to achieve so far.

“Heey, don’t go finishing my spliff,” Anders giggles.

Carver takes a look at the hole between Anders’ crossed legs. Two cans of beer. He’s muzzy.

“Who said it’s yours?”

“It’s miine, I got it first!”

“Oh yeah? How hard do you want it back?”

“Very hard,” Anders grins earnestly and somewhere in his head, he registers that he probably just said something possibly dirty and chooses to bite his lower lip in apology, in acknowledgement, in something that should have helped his case but isn’t. Definitely not.

Carver chances a glance around him. Everyone is busy with the buddy next to them - dancing with them. Bethany is laughing away from him with two nameless girls; his big brother is not even facing them anymore, busy goofing around, making friends that will last a summer. Sebastian is spinning the girl who’s been chatting him up in the beginning before she has noticed that something has suddenly fogged all transmissions between them. Daylen is talking to someone - Carver knows Daylen has never seen – who’s plucking on a guitar.

And only when every cell in his brain deems it safe, does he says,

“Come closer.”

Anders obeys. Their naked forearms are touching now. Carver knows this is something even buddies do between them; there’s no reason to flip about it. It just happens to be Anders, the too good to be his brother’s boyfriend, the guy with soft blond curls and lingering sunscreen scents and lips that part for him alone now—

Carver bends his head as if about to kiss, make sure not to grab Anders’ shoulder because it’s sensitive, ends up on more precarious grounds as he get hold of a naked hip poking from the arm hole, and let his surroundings become irrelevant as he close his eyes.

Lips brush feather-light under the palm tree. A hand droops on Carver’s thigh. It looks like a kiss only it’s not.

The smoke passes from mouth to mouth. With it, Carver innermost desires. Blown directly into the deep wetness of Anders’ mouth.

The smoke is passed three times between their parted lips before it fades. 

***

Later on, Anders has moved from Carver’s side, being called by Garrett to join him. Carver watches him - them, from afar and hates every moment of it deeply, internally, inside his skull where no one can judge him.

He can do nothing but watches as his big brother lifts Anders from the ground carefully from his thighs so to not hurt him, and spin him around, whooping and laughing drunkenly; kissing him and pouring bottles of water over his angry red back soothingly when one of the bulky foreign guys has smacked his back so recklessly it made _Carver_ winces on his behalf.

This moment of them is so precious. They look so… in love with each other it verging on sickening.

Carver tears his gaze away at some point because he’s starting to be afraid he may actually vomit on the sand.

“Hey,”

Carver looks up to see Daylen and his sickening gentle smile.

“Are you trying to achieve a super saiyan transformation by canalizing you’re brooding energy?” smiles Daylen.

“How long did it take you to come up with this one?”

“Ever since I spotted you moping which is,” he checks his invisible watch, “A good hour ago.”

Carver scoffs then get caught in a yawn. He sprawls against the palm tree, bringing a knee against his chest. “You’re right, I should stop.”

“Mm-hm.” Daylen agrees and joins him in the sitting position and looks ahead. From Carver peripheral vision is a clear view of Garrett and Anders enjoying their time together like two schoolboys at recess. Daylen winces and understand a little. It’s a pretty sight when you overlook the fact that you have confusing feelings for one of the guys in question.

“That girl over there asked me if you were single,” Daylen says, trying to change the subject.

“Which one?”

“That one with the blond ponytail.”

Carver considerates her from afar. She’s not the same shade of blond as Anders. In fact, she has dark roots so she may not even be a true blonde. But she’s pretty. And Carver’s head start to hurt so he drops it all together. “I dunno.”

“You don’t want to know what I told her?”

Carver rolls his head slowly until he faces his cousin and pulls a face that says ‘I’m bored so shoot.’

“I told her no.”

“What?”

“I told her no, but you weren’t really satisfied in it.”

“Wha—”

“Peaches. If only she didn’t come to spend the first week here I would believe you actually forgot about her but, _man_?”

“Oh.”

“Oh Maker, dude,” Daylen groans a meaningful groan of steamed up frustration. “You need to get laid. Pining is bad for the health.”

“I’m not pining.”

“Dude, I’m gonna smack you if you remotely try to prove me otherwise.”

Carver starts to feel like the vomiting is becoming less and less of a figurative feeling. “Shit.”

“You need to get drunk. Then you need to get laid. Anders—”

“Fuck, stop,” Carver snaps with a flinch. “I know. I fucking get it.”

“They’re leaving.” Daylen states.

Carver turns to look and effectively, he sees Anders and Garrett retreating; but not in the direction of the house. It looks like they’re searching for a darkened, secluded spot.

“What’s her name again?”


End file.
